


Below the Water

by i_as_the_pen



Category: Original Work
Genre: Flood!, POV Female Character, POV First Person, Short One Shot, she reminds me of kate the great weather all machine...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 23:53:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6260893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_as_the_pen/pseuds/i_as_the_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young girl with a treehouse to salivate over has her world slip out from under her overnight</p>
            </blockquote>





	Below the Water

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this several year ago, before I really knew what I was doing.... figured it was as good a place to start as any

It was Friday and I was home from school. As I ran through my house, I yelled “I’m going to my room, Mom!” I saw her shake her head as I flew past the kitchen where she was making my brother, Jason, a snack. Just like always. “Come back for dinner, at least!” I heard her say. I rushed out the back door and across the porch. I ran down the wooden steps and across the sun-parched yard. Past the old swing set and to my tall pine tree I ran. I started to climb, one story, two, three, four. I had made this climb so many times, I was able to do it easily even with my backpack on. I pulled myself through the square hole in the floor of my tree house. I threw my backpack down, and seated myself on my inflated camping mat. As I looked around my tree house, I remembered when I first found it. It was in second grade, and I was eight years old. Even then I loved to climb. I had climbed my favorite tree, this one, higher than ever before. When I reached the top branches, I found the frame of someone else’s tree house. The floor was still intact, and I could see the outline of walls and a roof. I remember that I rebuilt it, with help from my Dad. Now, it was my room. I had a normal bedroom, like almost everybody does, but I preferred to stay in my tree house, sometimes even sleeping there. I looked around the interior, pleased at my work. To my left was my red wool blanket, neatly folded. Beside it was an old camping lamp, slightly rusty from when I left it out in the rain, but still in working condition. In front of me was the square opening about half way up the wall which was my window. The late afternoon sun poured in, spilling its gold light over me and my possessions. On my right was my backpack. Inside it was my books, and the remainder of my lunch. Next to it was a tin container which held my stash of granola bars, candy bars, and my army knife. Beside it was a forty foot long coil of rope that I kept, just in case. I knew I should start my homework, but I felt tired. I lay back against the rough wood wall and closed my eyes. I’ll get up and start my homework in a minute, I thought… 

Crack! I woke with a start. It was dark, and my tree house was swaying. Rain was coming in the window, and running across the floor, trailing down to the square hole in the floor in little rivers. The crack must have been a branch from a nearby tree breaking, I thought. I realized that Mom must be worried sick, as dinner was long past. I crawled over to the hole; the floor was rocking too hard for me to stand. I looked though it, there was no way for me to climb down. Because there were so many helpful branches, I hadn’t bothered to build a ladder. Now, the branch I needed to start my descent was gone. It must have been the one I heard crack. I could use my rope to climb down, but I didn’t want to try in the dark while it was raining, for fear of falling. I was resigned to stay here all night; it wouldn’t be the first time. I could climb down it the morning. I lay down on my sleeping mat, pulled my wool blanket over me, and drifted off to sleep. 

When I woke, the rain had stopped, and the sun was once more shining through my window, but something was wrong. I could hear water. Not like rain, but more like waves. I rushed over to the window, and stared out. I instantly froze stiff with shock. Not more than four feet below me was water. It stretched out to the horizon, like the ocean. I backed away slowly, and sat down hard on my mat. “No.” I couldn’t believe that this had happened. Where had my family gone? Did they drown? What about all the people in the town? I slowly realized that my entire world, everyone I knew, my hometown, was flooded. Gone, or dead. Except for me. What would I do? I mentally ran through everything I had which could be used to help me survive. I had the sleeping mat, my food stash, yesterday’s lunch, the lamp, my knife, and the rope. I knew I couldn’t stay in my tree house forever, but I had enough food for about three days. I stood up, and moved across the floor, back to the window. I couldn’t see much. The sun reflected off the water, sending patterns dancing across my face and hands. I wanted to know if there was any land I could swim to. Somewhere with more food, and most importantly, clean water. I knew of only one way to see what was around my tree house. I turned around and sat on the window sill. I reached up, grasped the edge of the roof, and hauled myself up and onto the top of my tree house. It was windy, and the roof was swaying. I stood in the center of the roof and turned around slowly, looking for land. Nothing, nothing, nothing, wait, was that? I saw a small red dot on the horizon. What could it be? A piece of painted wood? I stood for a few minutes, watching it. I thought it might have been moving closer. It was on the same side of my tree house as my window. I thought it might reach my tree in a few hours. I was not worried, although had I known what that speck was, I would have been. Very. The entire time I was up here I had heard the distinct noise of birds. Now, because I spent so much time up here, I was used to it. But now, as I listened closer, I could hear many more birds than usual. I turned toward the opposite end of my tree house, where one of the tallest branches was still intact and above the water. It was filled with many types of birds, all stuck in my tree, without another place to go. I laughed out loud at the absurdity of the situation. Before I could do anything else, I saw a flash of light and heard a low rumbling from behind me. I turned around, already sure of what I’d find. The storm raced toward me, steadily growing bigger against the sky. The red spot was now the size of a baseball. Whatever it was, it was pretty big. The wind whipped around me now, much stronger than before. The roof rocked and bucked beneath me, like it was trying to throw me off. I carefully made my way towards the window, and lowered myself down and into my tree house. 

Minutes later the storm arrived. The rain started to fall in big fat drops. It pounded on the roof in a pleasant way. The rain came through my window again, so I went to see if I could see anything from the entrance to my tree house. When I looked down, there was the mysterious red I had seen earlier. The storm had blown it to the base of my tree. It was a rough circle about three feet across. Now I could see that it was not made of wood, it was a raft of army ants. I had read about them online about a month ago. When an army ant colony is flooded, they all grab onto each other to create a raft. They put their larvae and queen on top, safe from the water. This raft floats along until it reaches land of some sort, which it then invades. When I saw the ants had already started up the three feet of trunk between the water and me, I knew I was in trouble. I raced over to my backpack, and dumped out the contents. Then I threw in the tin container, my blanket, lunch, the lamp and my knife. I put the rope around my neck and grabbed my mat. I ran over to the window, and sat on the sill. I pushed the mat up ahead of me, and dragged myself up behind it. I knew I would have to abandon my tree house, because fire ants will attack any living thing that is in their way, and this was the largest colony I had ever seen. I set my backpack down on top of my mat and rushed over to the branches. I knew that the ants were most likely inside my tree house, and would be headed here next. I was oblivious to the rain pounding on my already soaked back; I was set on the task ahead of me. I start to gather as many broken branches as possible, and pile them onto the roof. When I had two large piles, I set them on side by side and tied them together with my rope. I set my sleeping mat on top, and lashed the two together. I hurried to tie the tail of the rope to one of the lowest branches. I then pushed my makeshift raft off the roof, and heard it splash onto the water. I put my backpack on and climbed down to my raft. I untied my little raft, and pushed off. As I drifted away at the mercy of the storm, I stole one last glance at the tree house I had lost to a raft of ants, and then fell asleep on my own raft, to the sound of the raging storm. 

When I woke, the sun was shining. I had no way of knowing how long I’d been asleep, but I could tell from where the sun was that it was about ten o’clock. I decided it must be Sunday. I was very hungry, because I hadn’t eaten in about a day and a half. I ate my old lunch, because it would spoil the soonest. After I’d eaten I looked around at the water around me. There was not land in sight. The waves were slowly carrying me along. The water was quite clear. As I looked through it, I could see roads and buildings. I saw a school with basketball hoops and a playground far beneath me. There was a highway with cars still on it, next to a library and a gas station. There was a church, with a large steeple that looked so near I wanted to reach down and touch it. The towns and cities were now part of a watery world, taken over by the flood. As I floated along I watched, absorbed in the sights below the water.


End file.
